


We Could be a Sweet Team Melting in your Vice Dreams

by Hexate (oppressa)



Series: Now I Know I'm Falling in Deep [3]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Against-the-wall, Games, Is this what they used to call Schmoop, Ivar caring, Kissing, M/M, Short, Sort Of, Sweet, Teasing, body play, hinted-at Sexual Frustration, niceness, not to be taken that seriously, time flies, when I was a young warthog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29067015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oppressa/pseuds/Hexate
Summary: Hvitserk shows Ivar how he has got his vitality back.
Relationships: Hvitserk/Ivar (Vikings)
Series: Now I Know I'm Falling in Deep [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140578
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	We Could be a Sweet Team Melting in your Vice Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Yes despite being named after one of the sexiest songs ever it's just G-Rated mush all right?

  
  
  
The snow in Kiev is finally beginning to melt. Though it's still cold, there is some sunlight trying to break through the icy sky, and with it Hvitserk's mood is improving, either because of that or the promise of a war close at hand, imminently being able to put himself to good use.  
  


The contrast with how he was when he got here is startling. The first thing Ivar did was to make sure he was bathed, scrubbed down thoroughly in borderline scalding hot water, in order to both warm him up and snap him out of it a bit, because he was shaking not only from being leeched of all his energy and spirit in the mind-numbing cold. And for a while he was still painfully thin, suspicious of anything that wasn't just fish or nuts and berries, incapable of working up much of an appetite, until Ivar saw him ravenous at the dinner table one night, cramming huge chunks of venison into his mouth, a heartening sight reminding him of delightfully tense family meals in Kattegat. His middle brother always was an eater. Igor was nervous of him at first, but that seems to have been as temporary as his shyness with Ivar. They have been chasing each other around the outside of the palace for what feels like several hours now. Ivar can't take part, however it's good for someone to play with him. Hvitserk is usually above it, but every now and again he can be persuaded. It recalls how him and Ubbe could have easily just run away with each other when they were that young, yet they still got Ivar to join in with them, more often than not.  
  


Hvitserk grabs him and pins his shoulders up against the wooden column of the bench he's sitting on to watch them flying in and out of the courtyard, kissing him in an impulsive rush, laughing, out of breath, which is as infuriating as it is uncalled-for, with Igor surely not that far behind.  
  


He lifts his hand from the top of his crutch to fasten hard around his neck and push him off, squeezing forefinger and thumb slightly under his ears in a warning that they are not at all that well hidden here, especially with no one else around.  
  


“...'Vitserk, you want him to see...”  
  


“I don't care if he sees. Oleg's right, he needs to grow up.”  
  


“Wouldn't that mean he's also too old for this?”  
  


Hvitserk looks him dead in the eye and tells him that no, you're never too old for this.  
  


“Still, I don't think seeing us is going to-”  
  


He's about to say _help with that_ , but Hvitserk shoves his tongue down his throat again, uninterested. Ivar is better prepared, hands grabbing at his dusty coat, dragging him closer. They only break apart when they run out of air, both breathless.  
  


Ivar shoves at him, but he doesn't budge. His brother can appear almost unfamiliar nowadays, scarred and mean-eyed, despite claiming to have had fungus-and-ale induced nightmares of Ivar telling him he looked good when he screamed. He's put on more muscle than he's ever had in these past few weeks, practising sword drills, determined not to let himself get into that wretched state ever again. Even Ganbaatar looks askance at him sometimes. And Ivar is glad of it, should anything come at them. Though it's annoying when he uses it against him, he can't seem to make himself mind right now, not when he's laughing, when they're in a good way, happy with each other like this.  
  


“And what if he will tell Oleg, or if Oleg was to see us?”  
  


“He wouldn't tell Oleg.”  
  


“Oleg scares him.”  
  


Hvitserk barks shortly, breath steaming out. “Ah, come on, Ivar. You're my brother, and it's just a kiss, all right?”  
  


He nudges him with his nose, leaning in for a third time, hands on his knees, pulling them apart a little. Playing coyly with his tongue, not forcing his way in, giving Ivar's mouth these light yet insistent little licks until he lets him through, making him ache with want.  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title by New Young Pony Club


End file.
